


dress you up (in my love)

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Feminization, First Time, Lace Panties, M/M, Panties, Panty Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 05:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: They’ve been messing around for a few months when it comes up.  Jon doesn’t even really know what makes him say it -- maybe he’s feeling punchy from the few beers the had with dinner, or maybe it’s that spring is in the air and he’s looking for an adventure -- but they’re sitting on Tommy’s couch one night, flipping through channels, when Jon spots a leggy blonde in a loose, soft-looking dress and pretty pink lipstick. He has Tommy’s legs in his lap, and he rubs his thumb over Tommy’s ankle and says, his voice only shaking a little, “Pretty thing like you’d look good in a dress like that, Tommy.”





	dress you up (in my love)

**Author's Note:**

> It all started with "Hi, wanna shave Tommy's leg and put him in a skirt?" 
> 
> So here we are. Shameless porn with some feelings thrown in. 
> 
> Thanks to my cheerleaders for all the encouragement!
> 
> And, as always, shhhhh.

They’ve been messing around for a few months when it comes up. Jon doesn’t even really know what makes him say it -- maybe he’s feeling punchy from the few beers the had with dinner, or maybe it’s that spring is in the air and he’s looking for an adventure -- but they’re sitting on Tommy’s couch one night, flipping through channels, when Jon spots a leggy blonde in a loose, soft-looking dress and pretty pink lipstick. He has Tommy’s legs in his lap, and he rubs his thumb over Tommy’s ankle and says, his voice only shaking a little, “Pretty thing like you’d look good in a dress like that, Tommy.” 

Tommy looks at him sharply, his mouth open a little, the apples of his cheeks already going pink. There’s a line of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a minute ago, and Jon swallows, prepared to laugh it off as a joke. He squeezes Tommy’s calf instead, looks him in the eye, and says, “You’ve got the legs for it, that’s for sure. Bet you could pull off those heels, too.”

Tommy blinks at him, his face a deep shade of red now, and shifts a little on his couch cushion but doesn’t move away. Jon has no idea how far he can take this—he didn’t even know this was a thing he _wanted_ , what the fuck—but Tommy seems.

Well.

Tommy’s interest seems piqued.

Jon cups a hand over Tommy’s knee, his long fingers dipping down to touch Tommy’s thigh. “I think I’d like to see that,” Jon says, and his voice sounds raspy in his own ears. “You all dressed up for me. Something pretty. Pink, maybe? Or blue. Maybe something lacey.”

Tommy still hasn’t moved. His breath is coming in shallow pants now, and his thigh twitches when Jon dips two fingers under the hem of his shorts. “I’d take you out,” Jon says, leaning closer, watching the way Tommy’s eyes flutter closed before Jon whispers, “Show you off.”

“Jon, I—“ Tommy says, and Jon’s about to pull back, call it all off, until Tommy tilts his head just so, baring his neck, and breathes, “yeah.”

“Yeah?” Jon repeats, peppering kisses along the arch of Tommy’s neck, behind his ear, under his jaw. “God, baby, you’d look so good on my arm, wouldn’t you. Pretty Tommy in a pretty dress.” He shifts slightly, pulling at Tommy until Tommy gets the hint and crawls into his lap, one leg on either side of Jon’s. He’s hard in his shorts, Jon can see, and he loops his arms around Tommy’s waist when Tommy buries his face in Jon’s neck. “I’d treat you so good on our date, Tommy,” he says. “Hold the door for you and pull out your chair. Order you the best bottle of wine on the menu. Anything you want.”

He pauses for a long moment, just holds Tommy close, lets it sink in. Wants Tommy to want it too.

“Would you—“ Tommy starts, clearing his throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Jon says, turning his face to nose at Tommy’s cheek. “What do you want?”

“Would you pick it out for me? The dress, I mean. The one you want me to wear.” He swallows before adding “for you.”

Jon’s dick jerks between his legs. Hearing Tommy ask for this — for Jon to make him pretty — is incredible, a turn-on beyond anything Jon has ever experienced.

“Of course,” Jon says. “If that’s what you want.”

Tommy nods, then looks up at Jon before quickly looking away. “And, um. Maybe—panties too?” He says the last part so quickly that Jon’s almost afraid he’s misheard, but the color in Tommy’s cheeks tells him otherwise. Jon groans, can’t help it, and leans in to kiss Tommy, both hands cupping his face as he licks into Tommy’s mouth.

Tommy kisses him back eagerly, his hands on Jon’s shoulders, rolling his hips into Jon’s lap.

“Panties too,” Jon says between kisses, and Tommy makes a strangled sound and digs his fingers into Jon’s biceps.

They don’t talk about it after that, too busy getting each other off with frantic handjobs and biting kisses, but when Tommy leaves that night, he gives Jon a shy smile and says, “Let me know when you want to have that date,” and Jon has a really hard time falling asleep after that.

*

A week later, he sends Tommy a text.

_booked us a fancy hotel room tonight. hope you’re free?_

Tommy is, it turns out, so Jon puts his plan into action, hoping Tommy’s still game. Before they leave the office, Jon presses a key card into Tommy’s palm and whispers, “Room 288. I left you a present.”

Tommy goes a lovely shade of red, ducking his head to hide his smile. “See you tonight,” Jon says, and kisses Tommy’s cheek before heading out.

Jon’s a bundle of nervous energy by the time he gets to the hotel at 7, hovering outside room 288 with his hand in the air, poised to knock. He bounces on the balls of his feet, rocks back on his heels and blows out a breath. He brought flowers—a colorful bouquet that he knows will look lovely cradled in the crook of Tommy’s arm—but now he wonders if it’s too much, if it’s _all_ too much. Maybe Tommy’s not even _here_ , maybe he saw what Jon left for him and had second thoughts.

*  
On the other side of the door, the minutes are ticking by and Tommy is thinking maybe Jon’s the one who’s changed his mind.

He’d gone right to the hotel right after he left the office. He’d packed his overnight bag that morning, thrown the duffel bag in his back seat, so it was easy to just head over and wait for Jon and -- _Jesus_ Tommy thinks -- get ready for him.   
The room is huge—a king-sized bed, a view of the city, a deep oversized tub—and Tommy takes his time unpacking his things in the bathroom before hanging up his shirt for the next day. It’s only then that he notices the box on the bed, a handwritten note attached to it.

_picked this out just for you. Can’t wait to see you in it. ~J_

Tommy opens the box carefully, folds back the tissue paper and sucks in a breath when he sees the soft pink dress. He hooks his fingers into the thin straps and lifts it out of the box slowly, the smooth, silky fabric revealing itself inch by inch. He turns it around, swallowing hard at the way it dips down low, sure to show off his whole back. There’s a quiet rustling sound, and he looks down, his heart rate kicking up when he realizes what it was.

He lays the dress down carefully on the bed and picks up the panties that had fallen back into the box. They’re pink like the dress, lacy, with a thick band that tommy imagines will press into his skin, maybe leave a mark. 

He takes a deep breath, smoothes the panties down on the bed next to the dress, and looks over his shoulder at the oversized tub. On the counter, his shaving kit waits for him, and the zipper is loud in the quiet room when he opens it up. He runs the water, warm enough that he won’t shiver and risk goosebumps but not hot enough to scald, and gets in.

When he’s done, he drags two fingertips over the now-smooth skin on his calf, over his knee, up his thigh. He’s smooth everywhere—he blushes just thinking about it—and he wonders what the lace will feel like against his balls, how the hem of the dress will feel against his hairless legs.

When he pulls the panties up over his legs, his shivers. The lace is softer than it looks, and it feels amazing against his skin. It takes him a few tries to get himself adjusted just right, but when he does, he's surprised by how comfortable it is. His cock his nestled tightly against his body, held in place by the pink lace, and he cups himself through the fabric, squeezing lightly, just once. He wants to look in the mirror, he wants to see how he looks, but he also wants to wait -- wants Jon's eyes to be the first to see him like this, to see what he must look like with his hard cock stretching the flimsy fabric, his ass cheeks hanging out the back.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself, and picks the dress up by the straps again, slipping it over his head in one easy motion. It hangs above his knees about an inch, nothing too revealing, but he can feel where it sits low on his back, and he thinks if Jon came up behind him now, he could hook one finger there and pull back and see the pink lace hidden beneath. 

He smooths his hands over his thighs. They're shaking a little, he notices, and he takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. This is just Jon, he tells himself. Jon, his best friend, who's seen him at his worst, seen him _through_ his worst. Jon _asked_ for this, and Tommy wants to give it to him. He glances at his watch -- 6:45 -- and without looking in the mirror, slowly, carefully applies the pink lipstick he stashed in his bag this morning. He hopes Jon likes it -- he hopes it's surprise, he hopes Jon's eyes fall to his mouth and Jon kisses the lipstick off of him. He wants to see it smeared on Jon's face, left there by Tommy's mouth. He sits down on the edge of the bed, slips his feet into the heels Jon left near the door, and waits.

*

Jon finally just swallows his nerves and raps on the door, his heart pounding while he waits for Tommy to answer. He hears the click of the door opening and it's like everything is moving in slow motion, bits of Tommy being revealed at a time -- one foot in a strappy heel, long, strong legs leading up under the hem of a soft skirt, and when the door's open all the way, and Jon's eyes land on Tommy's face, Jon thinks he might pass out from how hot Tommy looks -- how _pretty_. His lips are -- fuck, he's wearing _lipstick_ , and Jon hadn't told him to do that, he hadn't -- so that must mean Tommy wants this too, wants it as much as Jon does.

"Tommy," Jon says, huffing out a breath, smiling. "You look -- wow, sweetheart, you looking fucking _beautiful_." Tommy ducks his head, blushing all the way down to his chest -- his fucking _chest_ , bare and just barely covered by the thin pink fabric. The straps look so dainty on his broad shoulders, and Jon wants to eat him alive.

"You like it?" Tommy says quietly, shy, and Jon moves into his space, gets a hand on his hip and eases him backward, into the room, so the door can close behind them.

"I fucking love it," Jon whispers, right in Tommy's ear, and kisses his cheek. "I brought these for you," he says, and hands Tommy the flowers.

Tommy makes a show of smelling the flowers, then holds them in the crook of his elbow, just like Jon hoped he would. "They're beautiful. Thank you," he says softly, and Jon needs to kiss him now, can't wait anymore. It's soft and sweet, just a brush of lips, and Tommy leans toward him, chasing the kiss when Jon pulls back.

"I just wanna see you," Jon says, and takes a step backward. "Will you show me?"

Tommy nods, turning to set the flowers on the table near the door. Jon sucks in a breath when he does, and it's only then that Tommy remembers his back is bare. He stops, looks at Jon over his shoulder.

"Fuck, baby," Jon says, moving in close. His hands come to rest on Tommy's hip, and they slip a little on the fabric, so Jon digs in fingers in and holds on. "Look at you." He mouths at the back of Tommy's neck, kisses the knob of his spine.

"I, um," Tommy says, his head hanging while Jon's lips move on his skin. "I haven't actually seen."

Jon groans and bites at the join of Tommy's neck and shoulder. "You didn't look?"

"Wanted you to see me first," Tommy says, quiet, like he's embarrassed, and Jon can't have that, not when Tommy did this all this for him, not when Tommy _looks_ like this.

"Baby," Jon says again, and walks them both forward, towards the full-length mirror that hangs on the wall near the bathroom door. Tommy keeps his eyes on the floor, waits for Jon to tell him what to do. Jon slides his palms up Tommy's arms, leaves one resting on Tommy's bicep, the other moving up to cup Tommy's neck. He hooks his fingers under Tommy's chin and tilts his head up, and their eyes meet in the mirror. "Look how pretty you are."

Jon came here intending to take Tommy out. He meant to, he really did, and he knows Tommy would go, now, if he asked. But Jon’s too distracted by all the skin and silk and the pretty pink on Tommy’s lips. He can’t imagine sharing this version of Tommy with anyone, at least not now, not when he hasn’t even gotten to enjoy it fully himself. 

He moves to Tommy’s side, staying close enough that he can still watch Tommy’s face in the mirror—his reactions, the way his pretty pink lips are parted, the way the flimsy fabric of the dress is doing nothing to hide the swell of Tommy’s dick in the lacy panties Jon had chosen for him.

He lets his hand rest on the bare skin at the small of Tommy’s back, kisses his shoulder and drags his fingertips up Tommy’s spine. “So fucking lovely,” he says, and moves behind Tommy again, leaving a path of teasing kissing connecting all the freckles on Tommy’s back.

“Babe,” Jon says, hooking his chin over Tommy’s shoulder as best he can—the heels give Tommy height on him. He kisses behind Tommy’s ear. “Look at me.” Tommy opens his eyes and lets out a breath. “Are you wearing my other present?” 

Jon rolls his hips just a little, the bulge in his suit pants pressing tight against the sweet curve of Tommy’s ass.

Tommy swallows hard and nods once.

“Lift your dress for me,” Jon whispers, and Tommy sucks in a sharp breath, his hands clenching at his sides. “Cmon, sweetheart, show me. Don’t you want me to see?”

Tommy lets out a shuddery breath, and Jon watches in the mirror as he slips his fingers under the hem of the dress, crumpling the fabric in his big hands as he lifts it slowly. It’s such a tease, watching inch by inch of Tommy’s smooth skin revealed.

“Did you—fuck, Tom, did you shave your legs for me?”

Tommy flushes a deeper red and nods, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Not just my legs,” Tommy says, and Jon groans, his mouth watering when Tommy finally gets the dress up above his waist. It’s bunched around his middle, held up by one of Tommy’s big hands, and the contrast between that and the dainty fabric is driving Jon crazy. 

“Do they look ok?” Tommy asks, like he doesn’t know, like he can’t see how good he looks like this. 

The lace is stretched tight over his hips, cutting perfectly over the round swell of his ass, and the head of his cock, flushed and shiny with precome, is sticking out of the waistband, the shape of his dick obvious under the pink fabric.

“You’re perfect,” Jon whispers, and Tommy shivers when Jon’s fingers find the waistband of the panties, a featherlight touch, down over the cut of his hip. He closes his eyes: his legs are shaking a little, Jon notices—the heels on his feet make his legs look incredible, but they’re not doing much for keeping Tommy upright. 

“You wanna take your shoes off, sweetheart?” Jon asks, and Tommy gives him a shaky nod, moving to drop the dress. Jon stops him with a hand on his wrist. “I got you,” he says, and Tommy bites his lip again. He leans against Jon, solid and warm, and he only wobbles a little trying to get the first shoe off. The second goes easier, and Tommy lets Jon wrap an arm around his chest, holding him close.

“Gonna touch you now,” Jon tells him, and Tommy lets his head fall back on Jon’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “No, sweetheart,” Jon says. “Watch me.”

Tommy whines a little, but Jon's not about to let him be embarrassed -- not now, and not when Jon makes him come like this, standing in front of the mirror, which he's suddenly desperate to do.

He cups his palm over Tommy's dick, rubs his hand up and down a couple times, intoxicated by the way the heat of Tommy's erection feels through the lace. He rubs his thumb over Tommy's slit, snaps the waistband a bit, and Tommy shudders, swearing under his breath. Jon dips his fingers lower, touches the place where the panties go tight around Tommy's balls. He slips just the tips of his fingers under the edge, brushes them Tommy's smooth, hot skin, and lower, between Tommy's cheeks, where he's just as hot and silky-smooth as he is everywhere else. Tommy's trembling slightly, sagging back against Jon in a way he wasn't before, and when Jon meets his eyes in the mirror, Tommy groans. "Please, Jon," he begs, his voice cracking, and Jon moves his hand from where it's tucked low between Tommy's thighs and cups his dick again, stroking Tommy through the panties in tight, quick motions, just little flicks of his wrist that make Tommy whimper.

"Jon, Jon, wait," Tommy's saying, and Jon slows his hand, rocks his hips forward and kisses the back of Tommy's neck. "I want you to -- can you -- "

"What, baby? Anything, whatever you want," Jon says, and Tommy drops his chin to his chest, blowing out a breath. Jon watches him the mirror, the way his chest, blotchy and flushed, rises and falls with each ragged breath he takes, the way his hands are wound tight around the hem of the dress where it's gathered around his waist, the way his legs, smooth and hairless, shine with just the hint of sweat, his thighs twitching like he's desperate to stay standing.

"Fuck me," Tommy whispers, and Jon groans into his shoulder blade, tightening his grip on Tommy's cock again. "Please, Jon, just -- right here, I wanna watch, I wanna see."

Jon kisses Tommy's shoulder and neck, along his jaw, until Tommy's turning his face, finding Jon's mouth with his own, and then it's like a dam breaks. Tommy groans, turning in Jon's arms so he can loop his own arms around Jon's neck, biting at his lower lip, and Jon pushes him backward until his back is pressed against the mirror. Tommy hisses -- it's cold against his skin -- and drops his hands to Jon's hips, working his belt and pants open and pushing them down around his thighs. "C'mon, c'mon," Tommy chants, fumbling with the buttons on Jon's shirt.

"Hey," Jon says, gathering Tommy's wrists in his hands and holding them tightly between their bodies. "Just -- slow down, ok? Just -- " He guides one of Tommy's hands down to his side, then the other, Tommy's palms flat against the wall, and takes a step back, takes a breath, takes a moment just to look at Tommy, at the way one of the straps of his dress has slipped down off his shoulder, at how hard his nipples are through the fabric. Tommy's lipstick is smeared just a little, his lips slick and pink and used, and the jut of his cock is obvious under the skirt. He looks at Jon for a long moment, then ducks his head and tucks one ankle behind the other, almost daintily, and looks up at Jon under his eyelashes.

“Jesus, Tommy,” Jon says, a little breathless, and makes quick work of his shirt and pants, tossing them on the floor carelessly before getting back in Tommy’s space, pinching one of Tommy’s nipples lightly, thumbing over the hardened point of it as he kisses Tommy again. 

The dress feels incredible against Jon’s body where they’re pressed together. He’s used to the rasp of Tommy’s chest hair against his skin, and the silk is a dizzying contrast to the hardness of Tommy’s cock against Jon’s hip. He moves his hands down Tommy’s sides, stroking his fingers down and up, down again until he’s cupping Tommy’s ass, then lower, touching the backs of his thighs and inching the hem of the dress higher, higher, until it’s settled at the small of Tommy’s back. “So beautiful,” Jon says into Tommy’s neck, and when Tommy arches his back, his hips come forward. The skirt, still covering his front, slips against Jon’s cock. “Fuck, Tom, I need -- “

“Yeah,” Tommy says, and pushes gently at Jon’s chest, gets him to back off. He watches, his mouth half-open, as Tommy pushes the straps off his dress off his shoulders, watches it slink down Tommy’s body, pooling prettily at his feet, and then it’s just Tommy standing there in front of him in lacy pink panties, hotter than anything Jon’s ever seen in his entire life.

Tommy licks his lips, smiles a little, and turns around slowly to face the mirror. He meets Jon’s eyes in the reflection, and Jon suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, like he might burst into flames at any second. Jon’s eyes travel down his body -- the long length body, his pale skin smattered with freckles, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his ass, the seemingly endless lines of his legs, strong thighs and calves, and fuck, even his ankles are sexy. 

Tommy shifts a little, spreading his legs, and puts his palms flat against the mirror, hanging his head and pushing his ass out. Jon stares, awestruck, thinking of all the things he wants to do -- get on his knees behind Tommy and pull the panties down to this thighs, eat him out until he’s crying, spank the perfect curve of his ass until it’s as pink as the lace, until Tommy’s legs are shaking and he’s begging Jon to fuck him; slick his fingers up and slip them under the waistband, between Tommy’s asscheeks, fingerfuck him until he’s coming all over the mirror.

“Jon,” Tommy says with a chuckle, shaking Jon from his thoughts. “ _Do_ something, would you?”

Jon crowds in, covering Tommy’s hands with his own, slipping his fingers into the spaces between Tommy’s. He kisses the nape of Tommy’s neck, the knob of his spine, and rolls his hips against Tommy’s ass. “Do you think,” Jon asks, biting at Tommy’s earlobe, “that I can fuck you with them on? Make you come in your panties? Can I do that, baby?” 

Tommy huffs out a breath and nods, pushing back against Jon. “Yeah,” he replies, and Jon kisses the cap of his shoulder before reluctantly pulling away to dig through his bag for the bottle of lube he stashed there. His hands shake a little as he opens it, pouring a generous amount over the fingers of one hand and pulling Tommy’s panties to the side with the other. 

They’ve never done this before -- it’s been mutual handjobs, a little fingering during blowjobs, a night of Jon fucking Tommy’s thighs and whispering filthy things into his ear. But they’ve never fucked, and the fact that Tommy’s letting Jon do this -- that he put on a dress and panties and fucking _lipstick_ to please Jon, well. It’s a lot to handle, and it’s making it a lot harder to keep his feelings for Tommy tamped down. 

“Are you sure,” Jon whispers against Tommy’s shoulder, even as he has one slick finger circling Tommy’s rim. The tip goes in easily, up to the first knuckle, and Tommy gasps, one hand slipping from the wall. 

“Yeah, I’m sure, just -- please, Jon, _more_.”

By the time he’s fucking Tommy with three fingers, Tommy’s legs are shaking, the muscles in his back taut, his skin glistening. Jon reaches for the lube again, slicks up his cock, and guides the head to Tommy’s hole. He holds still for a moment, then rocks his hips, letting his dick slide between Tommy’s cheeks before finally lining up and pushing in. Tommy groans, long and low, and Jon wraps an arm around his torso, his other hand tight on Tommy’s hip, his fingertips tucked into the waistband of Tommy’s lace waistband. 

Tommy’s hot and wet around him, tight and perfect. Jon can’t believe they waited this long to do this. He’s wanted Tommy for so long -- for years now, long before he had even an inkling that Tommy wanted him, too -- and all of this feels like some sort of fever dream, like he’ll wake up tomorrow and none of this will have ever happened.

“Jon,” Tommy whispers, arching his back just enough that Jon can feel the movement around his cock. “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” Jon answers, coming back to himself, fucking into Tommy deliberately now, with long, slow strokes that send jolts of pleasure up his spine. With each slide in and out, the panties drag against his cock, and it’s both too much and not enough. “You feel so fucking good, Tom, I can’t -- “

“Touch me,” Tommy pleads, and reaches for the hand that’s gripping his hip, pulling it down to cover his cock through the lace. Tommy groans, rocking forward into the touch, and Jon follows, fucking into Tommy harder now, squeezing his dick, thumbing at the head where it’s sticking out of the waistband. 

Jon kisses Tommy’s neck and uses his free hand to cup Tommy’s jaw, tilting his head up until he’s looking in the mirror -- looking right at Jon. “Look at us,” he whispers. “Look at _you_ , Tommy, fuck, you look so good. So good for me, babe, you’re so --”

Tommy sucks in a sharp breath and comes, striping his stomach, the wetness from his cock dripping down onto Jon’s hand and onto his panties.

With Tommy clenched hot and tight around him, Jon can’t last much longer. He fucks into Tommy once, twice more, and then buries his face between Tommy’s shoulder blades and comes, bursts of white going off behind his eyelids. He still has one arm wrapped around Tommy, holding him close, and Tommy manages to find Jon’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. 

Jon pulls out slowly, unable to resist palming Tommy’s ass while he’s putting the panties back in place. He turns Tommy in his arms, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him tenderly, thumbing over his cheekbones, kissing his forehead. “How do you feel?” he asks, and Tommy flushes, biting back a smile.

“Really wet,” he admits, hiding his face in Jon’s neck when Jon touches his hole over the lace. 

“Will you keep them on for me?” Jon asks, and Tommy nods, letting Jon lead him to the bed. Jon pulls back the covers and climbs in after Tommy, curling up behind him, one leg tucked between both of Tommy’s. “That was fucking incredible,” he mumbles, nosing at the soft skin behind Tommy’s ear.

“Mm,” Tommy hums, fighting back a yawn. 

“Get some sleep, babe,” Jon says, slipping one arm under Tommy’s so he can rest his hand on Tommy’s chest. He swallows, lets the silence hang in the air for three seconds, then whispers, “I love you, Tommy.”

He can hear Tommy stop breathing, and his own heart stops. He waits for Tommy to climb out of bed, to get his clothes back on and tell Jon that’s not what this is, this is just for fun, it’s just sex.

But then he breathes out, covers Jon’s hand with his own, and whispers. “Love you too, Jon.”

Jon can’t help the crazy grin that splits his face. He holds Tommy tighter, closes his eyes, and lets himself be lulled to sleep by the quiet, rhythmic sound of Tommy breathing.


End file.
